Faux pas

I chat to a girl,
She scolds me, sharp as a knife,
For a grammar fopah (spelt wrong, too fast),
She says, "You fool, learn to write."

So I ask her, gentle as a breeze,
" Given (f(x) = 2x^2 + 3x - 5), find (f(2)) "
I feel her face contorting,
"Don’t be a tosser, what’s that to you?"

The equation's simple, clear as day,
A cat on a mat, the math’s child’s play.
But no, her fury rises,
She spits and snarls,
“Who cares about numbers? It’s letters I hurl!”

She blocks me quick, no time to chat,
Elitist pig, she says, "I’ll have none of that."
And I, in silence, ponder the curse,
Of a world where math is something much worse.

Oh, how did we fall, where did we trip?
Now words rule supreme, numbers just slip.
But I wonder still, in the quiet of night,
If the mathless know what they’re missing,
Out of sight.

What do we want?
More math, more now!
When do we want it?
Now, anyhow!

But I’ll sit with my numbers,
My sums and my squares,
And wonder if anyone, anywhere,
Still cares.